...Anger Leads to...

[Za'in]

...Anger Leads to...

The wind wheezed pass, and was sneezed back at. Quiet, though, because there was some restraint in it. Acres laid the world out, and it was vintage. Something out of a holovid, and most eyes were taken aback. Amid the galaxy of high tech, spaced with large vessels, there was still a simple ball of goo out there. It was fascinating, for most. Not for Za’in though. A city slicker, with city flair, he liked the city smell. No allergies came with the smell scraps of fast food, just a vomit or two. Nothing too major, not like Moorja.

Hunched against the rock, it was stake out time. Sensors pressed against the eyes, he watched. The wind kept coming, but he had to focus. The less time he had to be stuck here, the better he’d be. And the only way to get away was get the job done.

“Frell, I see ‘em…but he-h-he went into tha—“ he sneezed again. The release, it felt good, for a millisecond, then the snot dribbled. Sleeve across the nose, and eyes in a droop, he looked back into the binoculars. A frown followed the lead of his nose and eyes, drooping down. Displeasure was the color here, and it painted his face.

“—damn, he went into the crowd. Send ‘em at ‘em…”

[Raurn Tarplas]

Raurn shook his head. The flaps called his ears slapped together. A silence was there, beside that. The Gungan was old, and experienced. Haste was not a quality of his. Over time all that anxiety, and rush had been slowed down for the preference of efficiency. Certainly there was much to do, and he had his allergies too, but he was under control.

He’d let the young bump their gums. And on this occasion, the young was his partner, Za’in. As usual, the kid was ready to go, rushing daddy along. Raurn wasn’t annoyed though. This was all according to protocol, and he was sure soon enough the time would come.

All he said was, “…wait for it.”

[Lamar Starworth]

Crowds clustered the streets. Fields bore the surroundings. Everything was natural, and everything progressed as so. It was as he had never seen before. Lamar had taken in more places than most. Years on the line had made those locations turmoil, but all the same. He still saw a lot of lands, and this was a rare breed in the galaxy. Folks moved at a slow pace. There was no rush, and few fears. Simple people, just like he liked it.

A Jedi could get lost in all the heap of cool. Lamar wasn’t a Jedi though, not yet. He had the skills, but not the title. A lot had transpired since he had sworn the path, but not enough. Time had put him back at square one, rummaging through the trash of the galaxy for a crumb. On Kiffar he had snacked on a bit of knowledge. He was still hungry.

That’s how he got to Moorja. It was a stop. He was on his way, in transit, as always. No place was safe for too long. Nothing was good enough, secure enough, not in these days. Only a few months had passed since the crime had been commited. Since the day his hand brought the blade across a fool’s neck, and hell was articulated once more in a file kept safe somewhere in the Imperial Palace. No doubt there was billions of idiots coming after him. The former agent had even bumped into a few on Nubia. Stormtroopers weren’t always that hard to kill.

They didn’t have faces.

Not like these other folk. It was hard to keep peace in. Even as he flowed through the traffic, his mind stormed with images of the past. Blaster in hand, he had killed many innocent and not so innocent before. Anytime he talked, the memories came back. All those mangled bodies on the fields, in the city, on mountain tops. All those bodies gave him honor, and medals. They just became trophies, and reason for praise. It was weird to be just another person again.

And he couldn’t be, he had to be more. Something beyond normal, because he was. It was how his life had been lived from the start, so he walked the crowds, thinking in Jedi terms. To protect, or at least that’s how he thought their minds worked.

[Zephyr]

Darkness hit, and he fit. Zephyr was always in the dark. No matter who was behind the guise, the best disguise was the alley highs, or lows. This Zephyr preferred the lows. Despite the acres, lush beauty, there was still a small city. A spaceport, made perfect to explore for more credits to make it easy to snore. Business as usual, and this man wasn't going to bargain on the price. Times had got tedious, and his pockets outside this infamous suit were thin as hell.

This was definitely a job to him. No room for mistake, and no room to hate or love. Simply work, get the contract fulfilled, and head off to the next stage. Another act to get his hobo life straight, and credits in his hat.

Silence played well for such thoughts, too. So much in his mind that his tongue couldn't manage to work it out. Too many harsh images to put into sentences. All he had was silence, his eyes, and the rest of his senses, focused in on the past and the present. The future was too a wild a jungle to meddle in.

A sigh was let out. That was all he could muster. He could hear Raurn speaking to Za'in - the bosses.

"...wait for it."

He didn't want to. He saw him in sight. The crowds weren't enough, and nor was the hood. This man hadn't seen a Jedi before, but he was sure this was how they were. He sighed again. Go time was coming up, and he had to get prepared mentally. The past had to stay there...at least for a second or two.

[Za'in]

Za'in wasn't the patient type. That was clear. His eyes stared through the binoculars, waiting. No sneeze, yet. He was still silent, still waiting. This planet was a waste of space, and that was all Za'in knew. Anything else was up for grabs, such as this bounty.

Zephyr was on the job, but this employee wasn't exactly the most fitting. A few days back, the two had signed the guy up. He was a rag-tag swooper, down on his luck. Not in it for much more than credits. Of course, that was the case with most hunters, but they were more qualified...or at least had the resume to back it up.

This guy seemed to be a bit more fiesty though than the others. He had something to loose, and Za'in had a feeling that there wasn't much room for failure on his part. So, he was a perfect choice for the job. Certainly, he didn't have the backstory fit for such a prolific case, but he did have teh heart.

And thats all that mattered.

Plus, he was viscious. And with Jedi, viscious was good.

[Raurn Tarplas]

Raurn was one to follow his own words. He was no hypocrite. At least not in his public life. Gungans couldn't afford to ruin their image. There had been far too many foolish ones in the bunch to ruin the species. Each one had to do their best to rectify those few bafoon's reputations.

They had made the people look bad. Raurn wasn't the type to do so. He was patient. He was calm. He just waited.

Sitting on the rock, he kept his eyes down on the city below. No binoculars were needed, he had Za'in below him, on the case. And if anything was to spark the kid's interest, it would be shown. Patience and impatience could be complimentary traits under such circumstances. A level head was necessary to get the job down, but Za'in was proactive and that helped. Sometimes a bit over-anxious, and gun-ho, but it helped.

"...Soon, he'll shown his face. Then, I'll make the call. Got it."

[Zephyr]

"Got it."

Zephyr answered. He wasn't suppose to answer. He had to though. He had to do something. The darkness, the silence, the restlessness, it was all getting to him. There was too much in his past for him to stay at bay. To keep it there, to wait senselessly, even when the target was in sight, was nerve-racking.

He had to say something.

"Waiting on your call."

The glove was parked back at his side. He had spoken into it. The Zephyr outfit was tricked out with all sorts of gadgets. Most were concealed, but some weren't. Such as that blaster on his waist. It was tricky how the two contractors/businessmen had managed to bring the ship through all sorts of patrol. There was enough explosive on the little armor to blow away a few blocks.

Good stuff, especially for this assignment.

[Za'in]

Mucus built up. The snot stuffed all through his nose, crawling into his brain. Even as he stared, he could feel it. Allergies were picking up, and despite the focus of his thoughts he felt so flustered. Everything seemed so cluttered here. The clouds off in the distance, clear as day through the binoculars, weren't anything more than blobs.

He had to sneeze again.

"Frell! Where the frack is this bug-brain..."

Za'in held it in. He had to be strong. He'd sneeze when it was appropiate. Like when the bug-brain showed himself.

[Raurn Tarplas]

The Gungan's eyes narrowed. Focus was the key, and Raurn was the only one able to. The kid was all clogged up. Leaning a bit in, like the rock was acting as a chair, he snatched away his partner's binoculars.

Something had appeared. He could feel it. The seeing eyes would only add more proof.

Before he threw the binoculars back, he pointed, and yelled. They were secure, no one would hear them. This was outskirts, outside the city, and nothing more than a scout point. Perfect, because Raurn had picked it out, and Zephyr was the only one on the comm. link.

The plan had been set, and the key word was exclaimed with only the voice a Gungan could muster.

"THERE!"

[Za'in]

The brown haired business-kid was confused. Eyes wide, but brows low, he held to the binoculars and stared. His words said it all, though his tone emphasized it.

"Where?"

[Raurn Tarplas]

"There, dummy."

Raurn pointed with one hand, and bonked Za'in on the head with the other.

[Zephyr]

"Where...?"

This time it wasn't Za'in. The chilling voice crisply shot through the comm. link, disturbing the jest. It echoed, flaring through the Gungan and young businessman's ear. No emotion was put forth, only interest. A curiosity that was well controlled. Despite the funk that he had come to them in, he had remained quite professional.

There was alot to this mysterious man, hidden behind the mask that they would never know. All they would know were his acts, and they would be heinous. It was the only way the gang leader could go. Swoopers weren't delicate people.

[Raurn Tarplas]

The eldest of the contractor's cleared his throat. Time had come to get serious. At least, a bit more serious.

"He exited the crowd to the left, heading toward the cantina.

Move out."

[Lamar Starworth]

The crowd didn't part, but Lamar did. He trickled out like tears. He slithered away like a snake. Each step softer than the last. Brown eyes skid across the scene, watching. Everything was it should be. A calm in the breeze, whisper in it's touch. There was something pleasant in that touch. It ran across his face, twitched his nose, and tasted like nectar. The planet was alive.

Nature was a foreign word. Lamar had rarely walked the plains without the stench and stick of blood. In mind associated with such death, nature's beauty was still prevelant. Interesting was all Lamar could muster, but not with his tongue. No, he was quiet. Silent like his steps. Daylight shined above, and the crowds were thick.

His hood was there for him to blend. Winding through, he slipped off toward the nearby cantina. There, certainly eyes would capture him, but his dialogues would be an escape. No one would be interested him there. Only those select few that wanted a talk.

Moorja wasn't a Bounty Hunter hive like Nar Shaddaa. Caution still was stuck in his eyes, nose, ears, yet it was dulled. There was no need for alarm. The city bumped like it always did, like a melody. Face after face acting like notes along the music sheet, spaceport. Lamar looked, and saw nothing. Only two paces from the cantina door, his head was at a turn, gazing.

No one in sight.

No one was behind him.

No one was hunting him down. At least not to his knowledge.

[Zephyr]

There was a gruff huff. It was rough like dewback hide and strong. It was a heaved breathe, pushed with brute effort. From the shadows, the dark, the animal pounce. Armor in the exotic plates and shimmering head, he was there. The animal moved swift and powerful. Bodies were splashed by the force, hit like waves and thrown astray. Not a soul could defeat the strength of nature, it was unfair fight from the start. Even quick blinks couldn't capture his movement.

Determination drove his feet, and all he thought of was doing the act. All the emotionl prowess had been made focused, and Zephyr rolled through the crowds at the target. From atop, only the shine of the helm could be seen. And even that was seen in a blur. There was no heed in his steps, and he was agile despite the bulky hold on his body.

Somehow, the swooper had become comfortable with the armor.

He was at home when on the hunt.

Before the prey could blink once more, the predator was there. Blaster drawn, and pressed, he stared through the black bulbs fauxing as eyes on the menacing helm and awaited. There was something to be said about this one, but not a word would fix the swooper's lips. All he had was focus, and he would handle this job, accordingly.

Silence swept in, and the two stood close. No passerby could see the blaster, or taste the tension that had been built between the two. They were so unaware, and it made Zephyr smile. Of course, a hidden smile, but a smile, indeed.

[Za'in]

A rub of the head, and Za'in was good, almost. He still had this distasteful look on his face. Raurn was always bonking him, annoying him. Generally, being the adult of the situation - and it annoyed Za'in.

No further adieu was given though. Before another second pass, Za'in snatched for the binoculars. They were his.

"Mine!"

A big grin fixed on his lips, he looked back at the spot pointed out. There was something heating up. Great. The time had to move out, and let the pros handle the work.

"Can we go now?"

[Raurn Tarplas]

"Nope..."

Raurn trailed off, leaned back. The rock was hard, but he was harder. Raurn had the patience. That was clear, no need in saying any words for him. But for Za'in, he had plenty, although only a sentence would do:

"...Hold ya coat-tails, kid, it'll be all ovah in a quick sec."

[Lamar Starworth]

He sighed.

It was deep like the river. It was deep like space. He sighed real deep. This wasn't unexpected though. No surprise there. Jedi can't run around all willy-nilly forever. Even when hiding in that nice little cloak of his, he still was a Jedi. Well, at least in one way or another he was a Jedi. Not offically, but who was. The religion was gone, his aunt was gone, and there were no Jedi.

There weren't suppose to be any Jedi.

So, what would it mean to pull out their signature tool infront of a crowd? Would they even be able to identify it? Had they been so brain-washed to forget the paladins of the past?

The questions swept over Lamar's mind. Even as he stood there, motionless, eyes down at the blaster, he thought. He was always thinking. It was what had kept him alive this time. Being precautious, and aware was what had kept him on the battlefield with few scars and bruises. It was his bread and butter, but this idiot was taking a slice. Somehow he had sneaked up, and Lamar didn't notice.

Not until too late, he didn't. There wasn't any room to make a move. No space to grab that signature tool, and make a signature move. Actually, this wasn't even the place to be thinking about such things. All he should be thinking about was throwing his hands up, and calling it quits. He had been got.

So, he did. The hands went up, he looked at the predator, and waited.

"You got me..."

[Zephyr]

The blaster pushed in deep. Skin was getting poked now, and Zephyr was smiling. He had gotten the target in his grasp, and the time was to bite. But he didn't like people watching him eat. It was...awkward.

"Move it."

He pushed him along, keeping the blaster bolt to his newly turned back. He had to get him away from the flow of traffic, and bodies. No one was going to see this one bagged up, and turned in. Well, no one both his supporters (Z and R) and of course, little o' him.

[Zai]

--Delete Post--

[Lamar Starworth]

Lamar walked.

Each foot infront of the day. It was like childhood. Back on Coruscant, there were millions. The Imperial Center was bustling, all the time. Everyone was in a rush. People were blasting from here to there. There were too many destinations to count. The young had to learn fast. Mind-boggling was the word. But, that speed made Lamar what he was.

Step after step, he remembered.

The crowds thinned. The darkness was growing. Alley ways were forming. Lamar was eased. His eyes closed as the pushes stopped. The predator wasn't shoving anymore.

He was fine to move. Signature move time, locked and ready. It was a yank, a sweep, and slash, and pivot step. The laser sword, or was it a lightsaber, or bright wand, sliced at the man's blaster.

WOOO-HAAAH

Lamar didn't say that. He wouldn't. But his action deserved such a caption. He was graceful, smooth, elegant and of course a Jedi. The stance had been made. Lamar had planned this. It should have been forseen, but somehow it wasn't. Maybe because the former Imperial agent was so keen, so fast.

Hard to say, really, but the battle was set. Time to fight!

WOOO-HAAAH

[Zephyr]

Zephyr didn't hear the WOOO-HAAAHs , but it sure seemed like he did. Behind that mask of his was a wide mouth, confused. However, he was quick, witty, clever. There was no faulting his stride. Even as watched the fantastical display, he was conjuring up a new move. Ever on his toes was this one, this Zephyr had the experience of swoop racing to aid him.

All that speed, it kept the mind sharp. Lamar wasn't the only one that used the culture to his advatanage.

In an elegant showcase of footwork, he danced backwards, and let gravity take him back. His body went into a bend. Hands planted firm on the floor, he began to flip. The legs were out-stretched, so it was clear what was going to happen next. But Lamar wouldn't be able to stop it, his feet were coming up way too fast.

Zephyr was just at the right distance too...

[Lamar Starworth]

Foot, jaw and bada-boom.

The chin music went Boom! He flipped. He flopped. He was a piece of slop. Lamar was coasting through the air. Eyes weren't around, but if they were, they would be wide. It was like a slow-motion death scene in a holovid. The body thwarted in the air, as spit dove out of his open mouth.

All the world went in reverse. Lamar was like a glass bottle in the air, being taken off the ground in a catapult. Zephyr was somewhere, finding his balance, while the Jedi was trying find up from down. Then, when he did, he heard something. Felt something. It went...

SPLAT!!

Then, he was there. On the ground, near senseless. It was black for a second. A concussion. Still, there was room to move. Energy bolted through him. It was called adrenaline, and Lamar had to use it. Pushing off the ground in a rush, he came to his feet in a huff. Eyes blood shot, and face scathed with dirt and probably a bruise, he stared at the man.

He was ready for more. Problem was that somewhere in that flight the lightsaber had gotten loose from his grip. The last thing he was thinking of while he went flying was his hands, and that was evident. Lamar's eyes restrained from looking around, but they did...carefully.

The Jedi couldn't trust Zephyr's honor. Taking his eyes off for even a milisecond was trouble. But the former Stormtrooper couldn't help to be in trouble. He had a bounty on his head...clearly.

"Frell."

[Zephyr]

A grimace marred under that mask of his. That mask that couldn't be seen through, just seen at. The thing, the mask, looked horrifying. Perfect, really. It was how this Zephyr saw life, so it fit. To him, to this swooper, the galaxy was a horrible excuse of his expectations. Somewhere a long the line of his rough life, around the start, he was given these wants by society. Maybe it was the Empire to blame, or was it the Galactic Republic of old, but he thought success was attainable.

Now, all he was doing was pressing buttons on his forearm and unleashing a fire from an attatched flame thrower.

Truth be told, he sort of liked that. He was familiar with killing, destroying, so it was enjoyable. Fun. Not laugh out loud funny, but thought worthy.

"Time to die, Jedi."

Coolness still was in that voice, but not the air. The air was heating up. The flame was coming out, and if the once-upon-a-time Imperial didn't move, he would be torched.

[Lamar Starworth]

The fire licked at him. Movement was still possible. Lamar had a whole alley way behind him. The earth crumpled under his feet. He moved restlessy, stepping back. His mind went adrift, rushing to possibilities. Already he was without his lightsaber, and at odds, but more could be done.

The Jedi had to think fast. And think fast, he did. In a jolt, his hand went up. Palm open, eyes stern, he sent the flames packing back at their sender. The wind went out in a gust, but the source was magical.

The Force.

[Zephyr]

He was quick.

He swooped to the side. The alley wall was far enough, he wouldn't hit it. So, he rolled. The fire was coming back at him, he had to dodge. Lifting back to a stand, back pressed to the wall, he prepared. The next move was up. He was set.

Zephyr twisted his body, and let his arms move naturally. They dangled at his side, but momentum pushed them back up. With them came a firm grip, and it held a blaster. Not a second was given to think, or halt. The Zephyr pulled, and the blast was shot.

His aim wasn't the head. And it wasn't for the body, either. No, it was for something lower.

[Lamar Starworth]

"AAAAAHHHHH!!!!"

He would have jumped. He would have dodged. He would have, if he could have. The man was regrouping himself. After a blast of fire, kick to the chin, it was hard to get that adrenaline pumping to the legs and get up. It was fast, too close, and hard to move.

Even Jedi need a small breather before attacks. Zephyr knew that. Zephyr needed one too, but the advatange he had was it wasn't all physical. Blasters even the playing field, and without a lightsaber to call on it was hard to deflect. Especially in such moments that they would be most required, such as shots to the leg.

He was hampered.

Lamar let out the yell, toppled against the wall, and held himself. He wouldn't fall. He wouldn't allow that. The Jedi wasn't going to give up that easy, his eyes were still on the lightsaber. It could be called. Despite the shot, he still had the Force on his side.

[Zai]

---Delete---

[Zephyr]

Off the wall, into a stand Zephyr went. The dark swallowed his shadow. Aside stood the tall building, hunched with a walk way. A tranquil lull was known to this planet, this area, and the wind could be heard whimpering around the man. It wheezed, breathed uneasy. Zephyr stood stout. The omnious dark of Zephyr's eyes stared through. About was a black, and it patterned well with those eyes of his. He was a predator.

A long his mouth was a vent. Air was huffed out. He had worked. Each second another heave escaped him, whisping away with the weeping breeze. The wind swept pass, twirling back into the streets, the traffic. Steps could be heard from the alley. Zephyr was boiling. Anger, frustration, it was all there. One foot after enough crumbled the earth under. Marsh soil sat there, gritting together with the bulk of pebbled paving. Normally feets would tap, not bang.

Zephyr's feet banged.

The heaviness in his legs thread together in a weighty trot. Once more the breeze swooped back in, and out. It dashing off, straying from the men, their presence, and the fear. The wind captured many. Folks walked the street, ignorant. Children played the grounds with balls, and laughter. People troubled themselves with market talk, chit-chat. A few local politicans amble together in a flaunt. Power swarmed this small town, this small spaceport. Few flights could be heard over head. Not many came to this world.

It wasn't a hot spot.

So, when the kid's balls trickled into to the street, they ran. Parents, of course, scolded. But, they only scolded, didn't fear. Speeders weren't blasting pass in a rush. Destinations were few and far between, at least in terms of eventful ones. Most the mundane matters, events, buildings, and businesses were within walking distance. The need for hovercrafts were slim. All the city's sounds were lull. Quiet.

The bounce of the kid's ball could be heard. The tap on the pebble like a playful whisper. Even the deeper tapping of the following boy was of fun. Seriousness didn't make a sound here. Not often, at least. When it did, heads went up, most the time. This time, however, only one head went up when they heard it. But maybe it was because the sound wasn't so serious as it was alarming...

BLOOF!!!!

The kid picked up the ball, only to look down the street where it came.

[Raurn Tarplas]

A sigh. That was all that was needed.

He turned. Then toppled off the rock, flipped his flaps, and slowly trotted off. No words right away. That wasn't Raurn's style. But they came eventually, after a few paces.

'We can go now..."

[Zeel Attond]

Was it moments?

Was it minutes?

It was hard to really grasp the amount of time in difference. However, it was clear there was a difference in time. Minute as it may have been, there was a difference. The visuals said so. No golden, no brown, no footsteps, no ball. A little time had change. The clock had struck a bit. The culprit was gone. It was safe.

And so, with it safe, came something unsafe. Or so it seemed so in sound. Despite how low, how weak, how hard it was to grasp, the sound was - it did come. It was creeping. The tap that pebbles should have had was more like an unk. An unk there, and an unk closer. The steps were zooming in.

On the floor was a hand. Not dismembered, or disassembled, or anything of that sort, just a hand. The hand was still attached to the body, and that body wasn't much anymore. Still, it was attached. Limped over, slunk a long the floor, the hand was reaching for something. Of course, the hand, and that body was quite useless at this point, but it was reaching for whatever it was worth.

Sad part was it wouldn't get it. Those unks, those steps, were coming closer and the aim wasn't the body. No one could help that body now. That once bright, brown skin of a body was now without anything to motivate it. No soul, no heart, or...well at least the heart wasn't pumping blood anymore. The body was lifeless. Worthless. Of no account.

The only account that matter was the one recorded. Those creeping feet had captured it all. Safely. All of it, taken down, from afar. Hunched over, knees bent, black hair trickling, green skin sparkling, tattos barley showing, the reached for item was gone. A clean sweep. The item was gone, and the character was too.

As fast as the figure crept in, it crept out. Gone with the wind.